


Canvas

by hit_the_books



Series: SPN Poly Bingo 2017 [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Castiel (Supernatural), Betaed, Chef Benny, Horror, Multi, POV Multiple, Past Abuse, Past Attempted Suicide, Polyamory, Psychological Trauma, Recovery, Stephen King Feels, Unreliable Narrator, Weirdness, Writer Meg, past abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 15:24:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11489193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: It doesn't matter that he had millions in the bank: Castiel Novak knew better than anyone that money can't buy happiness.When Castiel fled New York City for Camden, Maine, Castiel hoped to find some normalcy in the company of his high school sweethearts Benny Lafitte and Meg Masters. Instead he found the past he was trying to escape.





	1. Castiel

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for SPN Poly Bingo and the square: "Benny Castiel Meg".
> 
> Thank you so much to [A_Diamond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_diamond) for being my beta reader on this.
> 
> I was actually stuck on what to write for this square when I started thinking about it, and then a plot bunny hopped into my head. I hope you enjoy it.

More flakes drifted down, settling in the the brown curls of Meg’s hair that had escaped her beanie. The little light ice crystals reminded Castiel of the diamonds he’d once seen encrusted on a skull at an auction in New York. But Meg was far more beautiful.

Light from the tram spilled out onto the sidewalk, glowing warm in the late afternoon light. Meg led the way up the short steps into the

Snowflakes drifted down and Castiel huddled closer to Meg. A promise of warm gumbo at Benny’s diner had coaxed him out of their cottage and along the short walk to the old tram carriage that had been converted into “Benny’s”. Their boots crunched over the gritted sidewalk as they walked up the street. Many of the stores along the sidewalk were closed for the off-season, and Castiel kept his gaze away from the empty glass. Always worried what he might see reflected back at him.

“Here,” Meg whispered, “hold my hand.” She stuck out her purple mitten covered left hand and Castiel seized it in his right, wrapping blue yarn over purple, their mittens looking like they belonged.

carriage and opened the door. Little flurries of snow chased them inside as they kicked the snow from their boots. Heat washed over them, and Castiel undid his padded jacket and pulled it off.

The floor boards shifted behind Castiel and he tensed. Big, warm arms wrapped around him and Castiel allowed himself to relax as Benny hugged him.

“Thought you two wouldn’t make it,” Benny drawled in his soothing Louisianan accent. The taller man let go of Castiel and helped him take his hat, scarf and mittens off.

Meg took the garments from him and hung them up with her own. “Someone couldn’t find the right shade of red.”

Benny quirked an eyebrow at Castiel and the artist shrugged. “And I still couldn’t. I’ve got some new supplies coming in a few days. Hopefully I’ll get it right then.” Castiel gave Benny an apologetic smile. “Something smells good.”

“Well of course something smells good.” Benny straightened his apron and headed behind the counter. “That gumbo’s been on since seven this mornin’. It’s had time to appreciate the finer things in life.”

Few customers were with them in the diner. The afternoon and early evening had turned to having the wrong kind of weather for many to venture far for their own homes and jobs. At least for the few people that lived in Camden this time of year.

Extremities starting to warm, Castiel pulled his baby blue knitted pullover closer around himself and hummed when Meg took a stool beside him at the main counter. Benny placed steaming bowls of gumbo down in front of them, the spiced heat of the dish wafted into Castiel’s nose. He could feel his sinuses clearing already. He grabbed a bottle of hot sauce and turned the top of his gumbo an orange-red.

He could pretty much hear Benny rolling his eyes, but Castiel didn’t care as he finally drove a spoon through the bowl’s contents. The first mouthful warmed Castiel from the inside out, making him forget the frigid trek that Meg had dragged him through.

Newspaper pages were shuffled at a nearby table, but Castiel forgot about the other eyes that might be watching him as his body remembered what it was like to feel hungry. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten, and Castiel became dimly aware that this was likely why Meg had dragged him out of the cottage. Thinking back on the earlier parts of his day, Castiel recalled the greasy homely odor of grilled cheese sandwiches left to go cold on a white plate in the corner of his studio near the door.

“Sorry,” Castiel muttered to his bowl.

“I was just worried. You didn’t have breakfast either.” Meg rubbed at Castiel’s back, the touch familiar and caring.

“I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“I know, Clarence, I know.” Meg’s nickname for Castiel made goosebumps rise on his arms. He leaned against her.

Benny rung up a few bills for other customers and then sat down beside them, his own steaming bowl of gumbo in front of him. The three of them were the last ones in the diner. They ate their meals in silence and Castiel was glad that neither Benny or Meg was trying to draw him into conversation. If they did that he would likely not have the energy to get back to the cottage under his own steam.

Once they finished their meals, Meg and Castiel helped Benny close up, wiping tables and lifting up chairs. Benny sorted the dishes into the dishwasher and ensured everything was turned off. He expertly counted the day’s takings and then put it in the diner’s safe. Within less than thirty minutes they were out of the diner and walking back home.

Eyes averted from the empty stores, Castiel followed behind Benny and Meg as the two of them argued over what they would watch for the night. Guided by street lights, Castiel trusted that Meg and Benny knew the way to their house and didn’t pay much attention to where he was going. He placed his foot down with just the wrong amount of weight on the sidewalk, a small section that had not been gritted so well.

Such a small insignificant thing. Castiel went flying. He landed on his back, breath knocked out of him and his ears ringing. Meg and Benny were checking him over immediately, but their voices were distant, like they were coming down a tube.

World hurting and cold, Castiel’s gaze shifted to one of the store fronts abandoned for the winter. An inky form stared back at him, but Castiel knew its grin, knew the malice behind its gaze.

A scream started low in Castiel’s throat but grew higher and higher as the inky form watched him. Hands grabbed at him, tried to reassure and test, but Castiel couldn’t escape.


	2. Sam

Ducking under the front porch of Benny and Meg’s cottage, Sam took in a deep breath and held his hand to the door in front of him. But before he could knock, the door swung open and Benny greeted Sam with a pale worried face. Even there at the front of the house, Sam could hear Castiel’s screams.

“How long?” Sam asked, stepping in and stomping the snow from his boots. He put down his doctor’s bag and yanked off his jacket.

Benny closed the front door and took Sam’s jacket. “Over an hour now. He just stops for a second or two and then starts again.”

Nodding, Sam picked up his doctor’s bag again, and Benny led him through the cottage. Castiel’s screams got louder and louder. “I’m going to give him a sedative,” Sam explained. “Will you be able to keep him still?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

The two men reached the bedroom Castiel and Meg was in. They were sat on the floor. Meg was rubbing soothing circles into Castiel’s back, but it was obviously doing nothing. She gave Sam a stricken look and Sam out his bag down. With practiced movements, he got a vial out of his bag and an unused needle. He loaded the hypodermic needle with the sedative and then nodded to Benny.

Benny knelt in front of Castiel and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. The screams stopped for a second and that’s when Sam knelt down with the needle, pulled up the sleeve of Castiel’s shirts and gave him the sedative.

He wiped the injection site with an alcohol swab. Before Castiel could start screaming again, the sedative started to take effect and the man slumped in Benny’s arms, unruly hair getting up in Benny’s face. Stashing the needle in a portable sharps bin along with the swab, Sam stood up and wiped at his face.

“What was it this time?” he asked, looking between Benny and Meg.

“He fell, though he didn’t hit his head,” Meg said, “slipped on some ice.”

Sam took his prescription pad out of his bag and scribbled something down. “Get these in the morning.”

Meg took the script. “When do you want to see him again?”

“Wednesday, like we arranged. I need to get back to Jess. When he comes to, his throat is going to hurt like hell. Make him some hot honey, lemon and ginger tea. It’ll help soothe it. That’s with fresh lemon and ginger.”

Nodding in understanding, Benny shifted his weight and carefully moved Castiel onto his feet. Meg then helped Benny put their partner in the nearby bed. Sam watched them, concern and sorrow weighing his chest. He’d always known that Castiel coming to live with the two of them had not been the reunion they’d hoped for.

“If there’s any change for the worse, don’t hesitate to call me,” Sam instructed. “I’ll show myself out.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Meg said, voice wavering with sorrow.

Sam turned to look back into the bedroom. “Just don’t forget to look after each other too.” And with that said, Sam left his friends, hoping that they wouldn’t need to call him again before Wednesday.

***

“Is he alright?” Jess asked, taking Sam’s jacket from him.

Sam sighed. He couldn’t go into the specifics of course, Cas was his patient after all, but he was also their friend. “Far from it.”

Jess lowered her gaze, clearly feeling the same sorrow their small group of friends and family all did. No one wanted this for Castiel, but something had happened in New York.

Shucking off his boots, Sam stretched and laced his fingers with Jessica’s. “He’ll get there, eventually. But it’s going to take time.”

Though Sam didn’t say to Jess, as he rubbed a hand over the small swell of her stomach, that he feared they’d lose Castiel again before he had a chance to heal. And that the next time they lost him it would be for good.

“Dinner’s ready,” Jess murmured, kissing Sam’s cheek. “You left before I got the chance to tell you what it is.”

“What is it?”

“My winter soup.”

“Mmm, you’re the best.”

“And fresh sourdough bread.”

Sam kissed Jess on the mouth. “The _best_.”

Halfway through dinner, Dean phoned Sam. Word about Castiel had traveled and Sam had to dissuade his brother from checking in on their friend.

“He should be sleeping now, Dean. Look, why don’t you ring Meg in the morning and see if Castiel is up for visitors.” Sam stirred at his soup.

“I suppose...”

“You know I’m right.”

Dean gave a huff, and Sam could almost imagine his older brother crossing an arm over his chest and frowning. “Sam, has he told you anything about New York?”

Setting his spoon down, it was Sam’s turn to cross and arm defensively over his chest. “You know I can’t talk about what he tells me in his sessions.”

“I know, but. C’mon. Something must have happened to make him, y’know… He didn’t use to be like this.”

Sam sighed. His brother was right: Castiel had been fine before he left for art school and found fame. And no one blamed him for doing that—it wasn’t for everyone, living in place like Camden, Maine. It was quiet in the winter, and a tourist trap in the spring and summer. Sam had almost not come home to practice psychiatry, but a feeling deep in his gut had told him he might be able to do a lot of good there. Plus it would be a great place to raise Jess and his family.

Of course he also couldn’t leave his brother to take on their father’s inheritance by himself, but Sam was never going to admit that to Dean.

“You think I don’t know?” Sam answered. “But I can’t tell you what happened. So stop asking. Stop speculating. Castiel needs his friends, not people playing detective. If he feels like telling you what happened, he will.”

Silence stretched on. “You’re right,” Dean finally admitted. “I’m sorry. I gotta get back to the bar. See you tomorrow.”

“Night, Dean.”

“Night, Sam.” The two of them hung up and Sam put his cell phone down. He wished Cas had told him more, but it had been hard to get anything from him during their sessions together.

All he knew is that everything had changed in New York.


	3. Meg

The coffee maker spluttered and hissed, coffee slowly filling its carafe. Meg chopped a lemon in half and placed one half over the juicer. She squeezed and pushed the lemon against the metal cone, juice, seeds and pulp flowing out from the fruit. Little holes in the juicer filtered the juice through into a cup, but stopped the seeds and pulp.

It was early, normally Meg would stay in bed for a few more hours, but Benny was up and Meg couldn’t sleep any longer. Cas was still asleep and so Meg decided to get breakfast ready for him. Benny was making oatmeal for the three of them, stirring it in a pot on the stove top.

They had the radio on, but Meg wasn’t really listening to it. She’d listened to the weather forecast—more snow—and then lost interest. It wasn’t like any of the local stations tended to play the kind of music she wanted to hear. At least not this early in the morning, which was a shame, because a bit of Nine Inch Nails this early in the day would probably help the listeners wake up.

Once the lemon was juiced, Meg took the cup of juice and poured into a mug. She added a generous spoonful of honey and the ginger she’d already grated. Normally Castiel was hardly functional in the morning without coffee, but Meg knew his throat would be too sore for his usual caffeine hit.

“I’ll head up to the diner after this,” Benny mumbled. “Bring the script by later too.”

Meg picked up the kettle and poured hot water into the mug with the lemon, honey and ginger. “Do you mind sending something down for lunch later?” She stirred the tea.

Benny chuckled. “Wouldn’t want to see you two starve, cher, ‘course I’ll send something along.”

“If you’ve got any sou-”

“Soup? Today’s special will be chicken and noodle soup, just what that sweet boy of ours needs. Don’t you worry.”

Meg stepped over to Benny and wrapped her arms around him, giving the tall man a big hug. “You spoil us.”

“Or maybe you spoil me,” Benny rumbled, twisting round and giving Meg a kiss. “You ever think of that?” Benny took the oatmeal off the stove and placed the pot on a trivet. He turned the stove off.

“Mmm, I had not.” Meg pulled Benny to her and kissed him again, deepening the kiss a little, tongue flicking into Benny’s mouth.

The two of them had started living together not long after Meg had returned from finishing college. And if anyone had said that she would have ended up with Benny Lafitte, her high school sweetheart, she would have told them they were high.

But Clarence? Meg never thought in a million years he would walk back into her life. He was theirs. While everyone had known Meg and Benny had been together, they never knew about their very welcome third wheel. People saw what they wanted to see. Only a few in their lives had managed to guess. The Winchester brothers being the main ones, but those two knew how to play it cool. They saw how happy Benny and Meg made Cas. Or had before New York. Before Cas had left for art school, fame, fortune and infamy. And a boyfriend who almost ruined him.

Benny pulled back and kissed Meg’s forehead. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I just want _our_ Clarence back.”

“We’ll get him back.” Benny stepped back and served up the oatmeal, adding honey and mixed berries to each bowl.

Meg put Castiel’s oatmeal and tea on a wooden tray with a spoon. She carried up the tray to the spare room Castiel used when he was having a bad night. Easing the door open with her shoulder, Meg found Castiel sat on the floor in front of the massive windows that dominated one wall. He was dressed only in a pair of green sleep pants.

Legs crossed in front of him, hands turned upwards on his knees, Castiel was meditating. The windows in front of him looked down onto the harbor at the bottom of the down. Ice and snow covered the trees and buildings on the way down to the waterline. It was beautiful, like the man sat before Meg.

“Morning, Megan,” Castiel greeted hoarsely. His voice sounded like it had been shredded on a cheese grater. He turned around and smiled up at Meg, mussed hair and blue eyes making Meg’s stomach flip. “Breakfast?”

“Breakfast.” Meg carried the tray and placed it down on the floor in front of Cas. “The tea’s for your throat.”

“Mmmm.” Cas picked up the mug up first and breathed in the steam coming from the mug. “Smells good.”

“Freshly squeezed lemon juice; grated ginger; spoon of honey, and hot water.” Meg crossed her arms. “Sam’s orders.”

Meg watched Cas blow on the tea and take a sip. He closed his eyes and relaxed. “It’s good.”

“Benny’s going to the diner soon.”

Tongue flicking out, Cas licked his lips. “Ask him to come say ‘bye’, please?”

***

Fingers dancing over her keyboard, Meg was neck deep in the autobiography she was ghost writing. She had notes strewn over her desk, and an old audio recorder with a set of earphones plugged into it, ready for her to check what Amara Shurley had said. The actress had a very particular way of speaking, which Meg was sure she had managed to capture in the typed words on her screen.

She’d been working through the current chapter in fits and bursts since earlier in the morning, but her back was telling her to stop. Finishing the sentence she’d been typing, Meg checked the time. Benny would be by any moment with lunch.

As if summoned by thought alone, a key turned in the front door and Benny hollered, “Lunch is served.”

Meg saved her work and climbed out of her seat. She pulled on a thick cream woolen pullover and went to Castiel’s studio—it had once been a gym, but neither Meg nor Benny had really used it. “Be right with you sweetheart,” Meg called and then she stepped into Castiel’s studio.

Her stomach dropped and she rushed over to Cas. Her angel was kneeling at his six foot by seven foot canvas covered in red red paint. But Cas didn’t have any red paint left, and there was something red all over his hands and arms. It looked like blood.

“Cas!” Meg shouted, but she got no response. She hit the floor beside Castiel and pulled at his arms and wrists, checking for cuts. There were no jagged wounds or slices, nowhere for the blood to have from.

“C’mon you two, your food’s getting cold,” Benny said from the doorway and Meg distantly heard his sudden intake of breath.

The larger man rushed over to Meg and Cas, kneeling down beside them. “Where is he hurt? Do I need to call for an ambulance?” Benny asked in a panicked voice.

“It was the canvas,” Castiel said hoarsely. “It wouldn’t stop.”

Meg’s angel turned to her, tears in his eyes. “It wouldn’t stop.”


	4. Benny

“It’s blood alright,” Jody said, peering at the canvas, nose almost touching it. She stood up and looked between Benny and Sam. “And there were no wounds on him?”

“None,” Sam said, looking to Benny. “I did an exam as soon as I got here. Nothing.”

Jody gave Benny a quizzical look, her police issue gun visible on her hip. “And you just didn’t happen to have jars of blood in the refrigerator?”

Benny shook his head. “Seeing as how none of us are vampires, no.”

“And no idea where he might have gotten some?”

“Cas hasn’t left town in weeks. He hasn’t been out the house without someone at his side since he’s been here. And we don’t exactly have a butcher here in town off season.” Benny shrugged. “If he got the blood, I got no idea where it came from.”

Jody frowned, but she pulled out some latex gloves from a pocket. She slipped the gloves on and then pulled out a scalpel and an evidence bag from another pocket. “I’ll take a sample of the canvas and send it off to be tested. I know a technician who won’t ask too many questions.”

“It’s appreciated.” Sam nodded and looked to Benny. “I’ll go and check in on Cas.” Sam headed out, leaving Benny alone with Jody.

Benny watched Jody cut a small square out of the canvas, the cloth covered in blood. Once she had it bagged and sealed, he showed the officer to his front door.

“Look, if you three need anything, y’know, besides forensic evidence being examined—call me.” Jody shrugged into her warm police issue jacket. “Don’t be a stranger… there anything else I can do?”

Benny sighed. “Let Hannah know I’ll be by as soon as I can. And ask her for a coffee.”

Jody smiled. “Will do.” The officer opened the door and looked out at the snow. “When I know the results, I’ll let you know.” Jody headed out into the snow.

Benny waved and closed the front door. He rubbed his arms and headed for the living room. Passing by the studio, Benny stopped and looked in through the open door. There was no way Cas was going to be okay with the canvas being left there. Getting his snow jacket on and some boots, Benny also grabbed some cleaning gloves and slipped them on. Careful, so as not to smear blood everywhere, Benny carried the canvas out to the woodshed in the backyard.

Back inside his cottage, Benny chucked the cleaning gloves in the trash and hung up his coat. He kicked his boots off and headed for the living room. Despite how new everything was, the cottage still needed work done on it. Needed to be made his, Meg’s and now Castiel’s. Benny had inherited the place from his late grandfather who’d rented it out most summers while living further inland himself. When his grandfather passed, Benny saw the perfect opportunity to set up his own business in Camden, Maine, because the diner had been heading to auction. It took some financial wrangling, and Meg was a silent partner in the diner, but: they were living the lives they had wanted to live.

And even though tragedy had brought Cas back into their lives, having him in their lives had made them fuller again. At least that’s what Benny thought when he allowed himself such thoughts. He’d give anything to wipe away whatever it was that Cas had gone through. Sometimes he wondered if he could bring himself to murder Castiel’s ex—the man who’d driven Cas to attempted suicide.

“You sure you don’t want me to check you in?” Sam gently asked Cas. The psychiatrist, their friend, was sat in armchair opposite Castiel.

Benny stepped into the living room and sat on Castiel’s right—Meg was on Cas’s left. The two of them were like shields, protecting Cas from a world that had tried to chew him up and spit him out.

“No. I don’t want to leave Meg and Benny again,” Cas whispered, throat still not healed. Hearing the hurt, both physical and psychological, in Castiel’s voice made Benny want to wrap his arms around his lover and never let go.

Sam rubbed at his knees and nodded. “I understand… look, we still have our regular session coming up Wednesday. How about the three of you try to get out for a while tonight, huh? Maybe go to The Roadhouse. I know Dean would love to see you.”

That did sound like a good idea. Benny put a reassuring hand on Castiel’s knee and squeezed. “What do you think?”

Castiel nodded. “Sounds good,” he whispered.

After that agreement, Sam left and Benny helped to get Meg and Cas settled for the rest of the afternoon. He still needed to go back to the diner. Setting Meg and Cas up with Netflix and the instruction to watch something stupid, he kissed their foreheads. They had mugs of hot chocolate and the still warm chicken noodle soup.

“I’ll see you two later.” Benny stroked Castiel’s face and blue eyes closed appreciatively.

“You… better save some of your… apple pie for Dean,” Cas whispers.

“Mmm, you’re right, darlin’. Free drinks. I like your thinking.” Benny winked and stood up. If he knew Dean, and he knew Dean, the bar owner would probably spoil them anyway.

The temperature outside showed no sign of warming up and Benny was glad to be back in the heat of his diner once he was there. Hannah had managed to hold the fort and they had a steady trade going through the afternoon.

Working in the kitchen, cooking up orders, gave Benny the time he needed to decompress the past day. First the freak out and now the blood—something was going on and Benny was starting to think it wasn’t necessarily all in Castiel’s head. Little was making sense in his life, bar the strong need he had to keep Cas and Meg safe. To calm the storms that raged within Castiel so that they could bring him home to harbor.

After five, Benny locked up the diner and started walking down the street back to his cottage. Something moved out of the corner of his eye and he turned to face one of the empty store windows. A man with blue eyes and blond hair stared back at him. Benny blinked.

The man was gone.


	5. Dean

“Benny, Meg, Cas!” Dean exclaimed, happy to see his friends as they stepped into the bar. It had been a long while since either Benny or Meg had visited, and Cas had never been to the place since Dean had become one of the owners.

Dean grabbed the two beers he’d been fishing out for a customer, opened them and handed them over. The man thanked him and took the beers to the pool table. Leaving Ellen to handle the customers, Dean got out from behind the bar and went over to his friends.

He spotted the pie box between Castiel’s hands and grinned like an idiot. “Pie, for me?”

“Benny thought you would like some,” Cas whispered.

Dean tried his best not to react to how Castiel sounded, but he couldn’t help the sympathy he felt for his friend. He must have screamed something fierce the previous night. “Thanks for the pie.” Dean took the box. “What’d you guys like to drink?”

His three friends took stools at the bar and Dean served Meg and Benny beers while Cas had a soda. He opened up his pie box and Benny started talking about the English couple who’d come to the diner in the morning, having not realized how cold Maine could get in January.

“Shame they won’t be here next month,” Dean said in between bites of apple pie, “they’re gonna miss the toboggan championships.”

Benny took a sip of beer. “That’s what I said. They did seem disappointed. But they did tip well.”

“Nice.” Dean shoveled in another mouthful of pie and moaned. He closed his eyes as he chewed and then opened them to find his friends looking at him like he just pulled his dick out in front of them. Which he’d only done the one time while drunk after senior prom. “What?”

Tilting her head, Meg gave him a long considered look. “Do you always sound like a porno actor when you eat pie, or is it just Benny’s pie?”

A blush crept up Dean’s cheeks. “Just Benny’s.”

Meg rolled her eyes and Cas chuckled. Benny gave Dean an obvious wink and sipped on his beer.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s good pie. A person should their appreciation when they get pie that’s this _good_. Every bite is like tasting heaven.”

Pie finished, Dean chatted to them about how things had been at the bar and talked about the crib he’s making fro Sam and Jess’s baby, but swore the three of them to secrecy. After their second round of drinks, Castiel excused himself to use the restroom.

“So how’s he doing, really?” Dean asked once it’s just the three of them.

Meg and Benny shared a look. Benny rolled his eyes and looked at Dean. “You know about last night, right?”

Dean nodded and checked the restroom door. There was still no sign of Cas. “Whole town knows about last night, guys.”

Silence stretched between them for a moment and then Benny told him about the blood on the canvas. Dean felt ill and worried. He kept checking the restroom door, but Cas had yet to return.

Finally Benny stopped talking and Dean jabbed a thumb towards the restroom door. “You think he’s okay in there?”

Both Benny and Meg frowned. Benny got up from his stool and headed into the restroom. Time seemed to slow down as Benny rushed out into the bar. “He’s gone!” Benny shouted.

Fear and worry pricked at Dean’s skin. He hurried out from behind the bar. “That’s impossible. The door’s the only way out.”

Within minutes everyone in the bar was turning it over looking for Cas, Benny and Ellen were out in the parking lot checking for Cas, and Dean was checking security footage. A camera caught Cas heading into the restroom, but not him coming out. At one point the footage fuzzed out a little, but no one had seen Cas leave.


	6. Jody

Snow drifted down and Chief Jody Mills tried not to shiver. She had a search to lead now that it was daylight. This was not how she wanted to spend her Wednesday morning, but she wasn’t about to leave Castiel Novak to whatever fate had befallen him. The guy didn’t deserve whatever was happening to him.

The K9 unit from a county over had been brought in, and the officer in change, one Donna Hanscum was bubbly, but serious. The search teams fanned out from The Roadhouse, calling door to door and checking backyards, garages and wood sheds as they went. Those who could, from the town, helped.

They had a photo taken in the bar that night, a selfie that had Dean, Meg, Benny and Cas altogether. So they were able to get out up-to-date information on what Castiel had been wearing.

But when they didn’t find him within the first twenty-four hours, despite the reports on local radio and TV news—Jody was beginning to worry. If he’d set out from the bar on foot, even with a good coat, unless he’d found shelter he would have died of exposure.

Every day they looked, Benny and Meg helped with search, Dean with them. Sam Winchester would join too when he didn’t have patients to see. The psychiatrist was able to at least help Jody understand some of what might have been going through Castiel’s mind.

Still, once the third day had ended and there was still no sign of Castiel Novak, celebrated artist and dear friend to the Camden community? Jody could no longer justify the continued manhunt. She made sure that Castiel’s details were circulated to departments throughout Maine and surrounding states. Even called in a few favors with her old FBI friend Deputy Director Bobby Singer.

“It’s like he vanished off the face of the Earth,” Jody explained to Bobby over the phone. She was sat in her office, winding down the active search for Castiel. “There was no other way for Novak to leave that restroom and yet he never came back out of it.”

“You know that ain’t possible,” Bobby said.

She knew the deputy director was right, but that didn’t mean knowing that helped anything make sense. “The day this happened, Novak painted a canvas with blood, after spending the previous day complaining that he couldn’t find the right shade of red paint.”

“What, painted it with his own blood?” Bobby asked, disbelief clear over the phone.

“He had no wounds. Nothing. And the volume of blood… it wasn’t a small canvas, Bobby. He would have been out for the count if it had been his own.”

“Well whose was it? Did he get it from a butcher or, you know, another person?”

Jody licked her lips. “I sent it to Garth. But he won’t be able to tell us until next Tuesday at the earliest.”

Bobby sucked in a breath. “Well, if there’s anything I can do. Let me know.”

Actually there was. “I need you look into Novak’s ex-boyfriend he was living with in New York, before Novak attempted suicide. He vanished while Novak was in recovery. Hasn’t been seen since.”

“You got a name?”

Jody nodded even though Bobby couldn’t see her. “Look for anything about a Luke Star. There’s an article in _Vanity Fair_ from August last year that has a photo of him at some big art auction with Novak.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”


	7. Castiel

Castiel smelt the coppery tang of blood on the air. Easing crusty eyes open, Cas winced at how bright everything was as the sun was reflected off the snow. And then the cold finally found him and he started to shiver. His whole body was bare—he had nothing.

Searing pain lanced across his back, below his shoulder blades, and he rolled from his side to his back, suddenly needing the icy chill of the snow. He shivered, but didn’t care as the pain his back was numbed. Gathering what strength he had, Castiel took in a deep breath and called out. He thought he might be in someone’s back yard, but he didn’t know whose.

“Help,” Cas called hoarsely.

A back door opened and snapped shut. Loud snuffling approached and Cas tried to twist and see what it was. He was greeted by a black Labrador, which gave a concerned whine. The dog licked Castiel’s forehead and then started to bark. Each bark felt like nails being driven through Castiel’s skull, but he didn’t ask the dog to stop. He held onto the pain and waited for help.

Laid out in the snow, naked, Castiel shivered and waited. Then the back door snapped open again and wooden porch steps creaked.

“Oh my God!” yelled a woman, voice rusty with age. “Francis, call 911!”

The older woman came to stand over Castiel, wrinkles creased with further worry, white hair tucked under a beanie, wrapped in a nice red jacket. She knelt in the snow beside him. “Francis,” she hollered, turning to the back door, “get me a blanket!”

She gave Castiel a very concerned look and stroked his hair, too afraid to move him. “I think you hurt your back, so I’m not going to move you, alright. But help is on the way. Just stay with me...”

“Cas-tiel,” Cas huffed out.

Recognition dawned across the woman’s face and she twisted towards the back door again. “Tell ‘em he’s that man everyone’s been looking for!”

The woman turned back to Castiel and continued to stroke his hair. A second later the back door creaked open and the porch steps creaked again. Cas was dimly aware of a blanket being unfurled over him, but he couldn’t tell his extremities apart any more. The woman and the man exchanged words and sirens sounded in the distance.

Castiel struggled to stay awake, but it was so difficult. His body wanted him to sleep.

“Stay with us, mister. C’mon, talk to me.”

“It… hurts,” Cas whispers. “Everything.”

“I know, and help is on its way.”

Castiel’s eyes closed.

“No, now don’t you go sleeping on me. You got friends worried about you!” the woman cried, but her voice was muffled.

Shadows danced over Castiel’s eyelids, but he couldn’t open them again. More voices joined the woman’s and after some time he felt his body being moved.

Consciousness was dangled in front of Castiel, but he didn’t know if he said or thought, “Where’s Meg and Benny?”

***

His shoulder ached, but his back felt worse, so Castiel stayed on his side as he opened his eyes. He was in his own bed, sheets tucked up around him. And he was warm—heat suffusing every part of him. Carefully twisting his head, Cas spotted Meg and Benny asleep on some giant floor cushions that had been dragged up from the lounge.

“Meg?” Cas whispered. His throat stung with the effort.

Meg’s eyes snapped open and she shook Benny a little. Not waiting for her partner, Meg stood up and went over to Castiel. He followed her gaze and he finally saw the intravenous drip that was attached to his left arm. Meg shifted around the drip’s stand and then knelt beside his bed.

“Hospital?” Cas asked. He focused on his fingers and saw that they were bandaged up.

“Highway was blocked with snow. Between Sam and doctor MacLeod, we were able to get you stable.” Meg’s gaze flicked between Castiel’s hands and face. “Jody will want to talk to you soon… do you remember anything?”

The floorboards shifted behind Meg and Benny joined them. He stood beside the bed and stayed quiet.

“Water?” Cas asked.

Benny went over to a bedside table and poured a cup of water. He put a straw in the cup and then brought it to Cas. “Here,” Benny rumbled, making sure the straw found Castiel’s mouth.

The cold water hurt and soothed, and Castiel took measured, small sips. Finally, he pushed the straw away with his tongue. Cas drew in a breath. “I was splashing… water on my face… in the Roadhouse. And then… then I was outside in the cold. In that yard.”

Meg and Benny exchanged worried looks. Meg leaned forward and reached a hand to Castiel’s cheek. She stroked his face, voice even as she said, “You were missing for three days, Clarence.”

Cas could believe her, but he couldn’t account for his missing time. “Why’s...” Cas winced as he tried to flex the muscles in his back. “Why does my back hurt?”

The other two shared another significant look. Benny dug his cellphone out of his jacket pocket and swiped through to a bunch of photos. Phone held up in front of him, Castiel gasped as he saw photos of what had happened to his back.

Two foot long vertical tears of flesh were shown, one on each side of his back, just below his shoulder blades. “H-how?”

Benny pulled his cell back. “Sam doesn’t know. He and Fergus cleaned and sewed you up best they could.”

“There were… black feathers where you were found,” Meg pointed out. “Whatever that means.”

Confusion and doubt mingled inside Castiel. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, but a sour ache in his gut was telling him that maybe Luke had never really left him. That he had never really managed to escape what he’d been running away from in New York.

“Clarence?” Meg asked in a hushed voice.

Castiel licked his lips. He’d never given anyone the full story since he’d been returned to Meg and Benny. “We need to talk.”


	8. Sam

“You missed our Wednesday session,” Sam deadpanned, taking a seat beside Castiel’s bed. His patient was laid out on his side, hands still bandaged due to frostbite.

The artist rolled his eyes, but smirked. “Sorry, Sam.”

“So,” Sam tapped a pen against his notebook, “do you want to talk about any of this?”

Swaddled in blankets and bandages, an IV going into his arm, Castiel looked small and scared. Doctor Fergus MacLeod hadn’t sobered up enough to stitch Castiel’s back wounds when he was found, so it was Sam who had held skin together and joined it. He hadn’t done anything like that since medical school, but Fergus said Sam had done a fine job.

Sam was glad that Jess and his baby was due after the snow would normally melt. He did not want to have to rely on Fergus when Jess went into labor.

Castiel squirmed a little. His boyfriend and girlfriend had both suggested that he had started to finally open up, but Sam needed to hear it from Castiel direct if he was going to be able to help.

“Before you ask, I don’t know how I got from the Roadhouse to that yard.” Castiel wouldn’t meet Sam’s eyes.

That was what Cas had told everyone else, and Sam was prepared to believe him, because there was no trace of Cas leaving the Roadhouse in the first place. But Jody wanted to know who had hurt Cas, because there was no way that he had given himself the injuries on his back.

“What about the cuts on your back?”

Cas sucked in a breath. “It was Luke.”

“Luke? Your ex?”

“He’s here.”

Sam wrote down Luke’s name on his pad. Jody had said something about looking into him, worried he might be behind Castiel’s disappearance. “He’s here, in Camden?”

Worry stole over Castiel’s features and he curled in on himself. “Yes.”

“Do you know where?”

Blue eyes pleaded with Sam not to ask, but Sam needed to know. He needed to keep Cas safe. “Cas, do you know where Luke is?”

Cas licked his lips and turned his gaze from Sam. “Luke was my muse, you know, back in my studio. Everything I painted was because of him and the things I saw was because of him.”

Taking on Cas has a patient had meant Sam had studied some of Castiel’s art. He knew it sold for hundreds of thousands, if not millions, in auction houses all over the world. And his agent, Gabriel Milton, had been doing his best to keep Castiel out of the limelight since his attempted suicide.

But Castiel’s paintings weren’t shiny happy things. They showed the fields of Armageddon itself, dead and dying, demons and angels. Hell on Earth. Painting the end times seemed to sell well these days, and Sam had some theories behind it as to well, but he wasn’t about to say them in a session.

“Cas, is Luke in Camden?” Sam repeated.

Castiel lifted a bandaged hand to his own chest. “He is here.”

But what did that even mean?

Sam didn’t get much further in his session with Castiel. Later when he saw Meg and Benny, he confided that he was considering having Cas admitted to a local psychiatric facility for more intense treatment. It hurt to admit this, but Sam needed to ensure that Castiel was safe and given the chance to heal.


	9. Meg

January showed no sign of thawing out. A week after Castiel had returned, and the wounds on his back were slightly more manageable, Meg would take Castiel out of the cottage and to Benny’s diner. There they would have lunch, chat about things going on in the community—act as normal as they could.

Perhaps Castiel got a few more looks than he had before he had disappeared, but if people wanted to keep eating Benny’s cooking—they stayed quiet and didn’t stare. But at least they only had to deal with the locals, somehow Gabriel Milton had managed to keep the press away from Camden. As far as Meg could tell, Gabriel had even managed to put a lid on the local paper, at least when it came to Castiel.

But her Clarence was suffering, and it was because Luke Star had twisted himself around Cas like a giant serpent. Slowly strangling the life out of him; crushing him until almost no breath was left.

It was a miracle that Cas hadn’t died back in New York, though Meg couldn’t bring herself to believe that some higher power had saved him. Not when he had been returned so broken.

For the first time in weeks, it hadn’t started snowing again while Cas and Meg were in the diner. Sneaking a glance outside and then back to Cas, Meg decided they wouldn’t head straight back home.

“Come see the boats with me?” Meg drank down the last of her coffee and pushed her plate to one side.

The suggestion of doing something different brought a light to Castiel’s eyes that had been missing. “That sounds like a lovely idea.”

As Benny always allowed them to eat on the house, the two of them said their goodbyes, exchanging kisses away from prying eyes, and then headed back out into two. Wrapped up against the elements, Meg led the way down to the harbor.

There were few boats left in the harbor at this time of year, many having been taken into dry dock at the end of the summer. The ones that were left were owned by townspeople who sailed when the weather wasn’t too stormy.

Careful of any ice, Meg and Cas stepped onto the promenade. Taking their time they walked around, looking at the boats that were tied up and listening to the gulls that flew overhead.

“It’s so nice here,” Cas said, eyes trained on the gently choppy sea water.

“Yeah, great when it’s not crammed with the summer crowd.” Meg followed Castiel’s gaze.

Castiel chuckled. “They’re not that bad.”

“You clearly didn’t experience our neighbors last summer. Who believed the height of cool was playing the Hamilton soundtrack over and over.”

Castiel laughed out loud at that, and then linked his hand with Meg’s. “But it’s good.”

“Not every day for two weeks good.” Meg pouted.

Cas leaned in and kissed Meg on the lips, mouth gentle and surprisingly warm. It was the first time he had kissed her like that since he was found.

The cold slowly seeped in and after ten minutes it was time to head back to the cottage.

The sky had darkened overhead and the temperature was dropping. Meg waved to an older woman out walking her French Bulldog (knitted jersey included), who she recognized from the last town meeting, and the woman waved back. But they didn’t see another soul on the trek back up to the cottage.

***

“Meg, Cas!” Benny hollered. It was past six and snowing again.

Saving her work, Meg shut off her monitor and pottered out of the office. The TV was still on in the living room, an episode of _Jessica Jones_ playing. Benny met Meg in the hallway and the two of them headed for the living room.

They approached the doorway and could see Castiel’s mop of unruly hair poking out from one side. Someone grunted. A lamp was kicked over and smashed to the floor.

“CAS!” Benny yelled, rushing forward.

Meg followed, heart trying to escape her chest. She skidded into the living room to see Cas strangling a blond haired man who was sprawled out on the floor. The man was taller than Castiel, but could gain no purchase on him.

Benny got in behind Cas and tried to pull him from the stranger, but despite his strength he couldn’t get Cas away from the man. A second later the man’s body stopped jerking and the grunts ended, a final stream of air rattled out of his chest. The man was still and lifeless. Breathing hard and fast, Castiel allowed himself to be yanked away from the stranger.

“Never again!” Castiel screeched. “NEVER AGAIN, LUKE! NEVER”

Words failed Meg as she stared at the body on her living room floor. She had no idea how the man had gotten into the house. And was he really _the_ Luke?

Benny bent over the man and studied his face while he checked for a pulse. “He looks familiar… but he’s definitely dead.”

Meg’s voice returned. “There is a dead man in our living room! WHAT THE HELL?!” Shock and feared surged within her. She didn’t want to lose Clarence again.

It was Benny who made to do anything. He seemed to share Meg’s fears, because the next words out of his mouth were, “We’ll burn the body.”

The body disappeared before they could burn it.


	10. Epilogue – Dean

Wiping down the bar after a busy evening, Dean wasn’t paying much attention to the two remaining customers. Officer Mills was talking with Dean’s brother Sam, voices hushed.

They’d been wrapped in discussion for the last hour and Dean was hoping they’d hurry it up so he could close up for the night. Jo was waiting upstairs and Ellen had finally given her blessing, so to speak. Or at least she’d not threatened bodily harm on Dean if he and Jo were to take things a little further.

“That blood was Luke Star’s,” Jody hissed.

Dean slowed down.

“But your FBI contact uncovered he died while Castiel was in hospital in NY.” Sam nervously scratched at the back of his neck.

Jody shrugged and picked at the label on her beer bottle. “I don’t get it either. How did his blood ended up all the way here?”

“Maybe someone drained the body and gave Castiel the blood?”

“That sounds crazy.”

“No less crazy than a canvas suddenly leaking the blood of a dead man.”

Jody and Sam lapsed into silence. Not wanting to look like he was eavesdropping, though he totally was, Dean started to wipe down the counter again.

“Has Cas said anything?” Jody tore the label completely off the bottle.

Sam sighed. “Nothing I can repeat here.”

“Did he kill Luke Star?”

Sam licked his lips. “Like I told Cas, how could he when he was unconscious, in a hospital bed, monitored 24/7.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments appreciated.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [dreamsfromthebunker](https://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/).


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